The Lion You Never See

I recently watched a film based on the true story about English colonel John Henry Patterson heading to the beautiful but wild land of Africa to build a bridge for the railroad. He must abide by a strict schedule to finish the bridge in time but almost immediately encounters an enormous setback. The strife among the workers from varying ethnic and religious backgrounds is the least of his concerns. During the first night, he witnesses the upheaval and paralyzing fear caused by the vicious attack of a lion.

The following evening, he climbs into a tree, awaiting the predator with a loaded weapon. A hunter, he slays the creature with one brilliant shot that astonishes and wins the respect of everyone in the camp. For a time, there is tremendous relief and heightened morale.

For a time.

Then suddenly, in a completely unforeseen and startling exhibition of what the tribesmen say is uncommon aggression, two lions storm the camp. The number of casualties rises, and among them is Patterson’s friend.

The remainder of the film subsequently depicts the various attempts of the colonel to conquer and slay the dangerous predators. Every night brings a new attempt, if not another attack and more bloodshed. Truly, these were lions, mighty among beasts, who retreated before nothing (Prov. 30:30). At one point, a renowned hunter and brave African tribe lend Patterson their aid. Yet even with such experience on his side, their efforts fall short and fail to bring the victory he needs.

Later in the story, the company builds a temporary hospital for the sick and lame, while Patterson and his hunting partner use the sturdier (and now empty) hospital as a trap. Tragically, in the night, the lions ignore the bait, discontent with lesser prey, and choose the weak and vulnerable men instead.

This event empties virtually the entire camp. The workers leave on the first departing train, hopeless and fearing for their lives, as Patterson watches helplessly.

But the enemy is out there, and Patterson will not be undefeated or go quietly into the night. Ultimately, he and his hunter-friend, as well as the tribal chief he has come to respect, pursue and kill the lions. However, not all of the valiant hunters survive. While Patterson triumphs in the end, those closest to him suffer most and pay the ultimate price.

A man from another country comes to build a bridge among people who hate each other, suffers for his country and his family, and fights bloodthirsty lions whose treachery cannot be stopped. That sounds familiar. Do not we too know a Man who came from a better country (Heb. 11:16) to build a bridge (Jn. 5:24) among contentious people (Jn. 4:9) who rejected Him (Jn. 6:66, Mk. 15:13) and who, to complete the task, had to defeat a ferocious, bloodthirsty lion (1 Pet. 5:8)?

Like the lions of Tsavo, which literally means “place of slaughter,” our enemy comes only to steal, kill, and destroy (Jn. 10:10). He has no regard for the weak, helpless, and lame. Job 24:14 paints this picture: “When daylight is gone, the murderer rises up, kills the poor and needy, and in the night steals forth like a thief.” His movements and intentions, like the lions, may seem unpredictable, but he too shall be defeated by the One who is undeceived.

The film opens with the polished English colonel we would expect—clean, cultured, and with little experience of African life. He has studied the flora and fauna extensively and marvels at it but lacks the experiential understanding of living in such a desolate and dangerous place.

In the end, the film shows Patterson weak, poor, and bloodied, having traversed through thickets of thorns, climbed trees, and spanned bridges to finally finish the lions. In the same way, does not our beloved Christ sacrifice Himself, bloodied and mocked, despised and rejected (Is. 53:3), that He may know Africa (Heb. 4:15), that His family might live in safety (1 Jn. 5:18), that His people may labor without fear (Matt. 9:37), and that His bridge might at last be built?

In our domestic, curated, Fisher-Price world, lions are tame. Even in popular images of them, we behold no trace of blood on their smooth, majestic manes. Even if we know that in some far-off land they exist, they wouldn’t approach, much less kill, a human. Aslan of Narnia and other depictions of lions in media inspire a sense of awe and admiration. Little do we know of the heart-stopping horror men experience before a ferocious beast whose insatiable appetite for death cannot be quenched.

Perhaps with a different perspective, our understanding of certain biblical passages would change. Nations God would use to punish Israel are depicted as roaring lions who “growl as they seize their prey and carry it off with no one to rescue” (Is. 5:29). David, a shepherd who likely had ample experience to know the power and threat of a lion, in Psalm 7:1-2 pleads, “Lord my God, I take refuge in you; save and deliver me from all who pursue me, or they will tear me apart like a lion and rip me to pieces with no one to rescue me.” In Psalm 10:8-10, he describes the wicked man this way: “He lies in wait near the villages; from ambush he murders the innocent. His eyes watch in secret for his victims; like a lion in cover he lies in wait. He lies in wait to catch the helpless... His victims are crushed, they collapse; they fall under his strength.” What a picture.

And yet, the righteous are as bold as a lion (Prov. 28:1). God is depicted as a roaring lion (Hos. 11:10, Am. 3:8), and we have the great Lion of Judah, the Root of David, who triumphs (Rev. 5:5). Fierce. Powerful. Great. As C.S. Lewis would say, not safe, but good. Be not afraid of the blood on His mane, for it is His own.

In 1898, the man-eaters of Tsavo tormented Patterson’s troop. They were dubbed the Ghost and the Darkness because of their quickness, agility, stealth, and virtual invisibility—and because some thought they were more than lions. Today, they live only in the Field Museum in Chicago, but their kind survives and continues to strike fear into the inhabitants of this region who live always with the awareness that lions live in their midst.

In Pilgrim’s Progress, Christian at one point looks up to behold his resting place, Palace Beautiful. He also sees two roaring lions in his path but doesn’t realize that they are chained. The Porter of Palace Beautiful from the door shouts encouragement to him and promises that if he will but stay on the narrow path provided by the open door, he will make it safely. The lions may roar, but remaining on the path, not trying to find his own way, is the safest place he can be.

The enemy is great and often hiding among the grass, but our best Defender is the Lion you never see. He works. He intercedes. He prays, and He promises. By His grace, we are kept on the narrow path, and He fights our lions, that we may say as Daniel, “My God sent his angel, and he shut the mouths of the lions” (Dan. 6:22).

The lions may roar and growl, yet the teeth of the great lions are broken.

Job 4:10